A Bad Day
by Mary4
Summary: J.D. has a very bad day as everything that could possibly go wrong does go wrong.


A Bad Day  
By Mary C. Paul  
  
  
Ever been having the most beautiful dream where you were brutally killing   
all your enemies, then all of a sudden you're wrenched from that peaceful   
slumber only to think the day was all downhill from here, and it could only get   
better? If you have the faintest conception what I'm talking about, you know   
that's all bullshit. Bad mornings don't lead into better days. It only gets   
worse. This was one of those days you figure will end with videotape of you on   
the news with some monotone, apathetic reporter trying to inject enough sap into   
their voice to stick it to everyone in whitebread land as they over dramatize the   
words, "Before turning the gun on himself..."  
One of the worst days of my life was only just getting under way. It was   
the day before I met Veronica.  
  
  
7:30 A.M.-Wake Up  
  
The alarm went off, blasting the radio. "Teenage suicide, don't do it! Teenage   
suicide, don't do it!..." My eyes opened and I stared at the vile clock-radio   
with the exact same vengeful hatred that the assholes at school roused in me.   
The wretched tune just kept going and going, mocking me, taunting me, begging me   
to kill the fucking thing! I reached under my pillow and pulled out the good-old   
girl from under it, and took aim at the glowing, red digital numbers. I'm not   
usually this agreeable in the morning, but this would do. It was the next best   
thing to offing the members of Big Fun themselves. I sat there smug and full of   
my inflated sense of extremes, because I was not going to let this fuck up my   
day!  
I pulled the trigger and heard a pathetic muted click. I looked at the clock   
cross-eyed, like it should have been blown to smithereens by now. I was getting   
a severe case of blue balls just looking at my trusty gun, but it was jammed and   
wouldn't fire! "Shit!"  
"Teenage suicide, don't do it! Teenage suicide..."  
"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed at it, but it wouldn't listen! It just kept   
playing that song, goddamn it! Didn't it know I'm utterly insane?!  
No! I was going to get the last laugh. I knew something it didn't! I had an ace   
up my sleeve for Mr. Clock-Radio, and for my favorite tone-deaf band of eurofags   
in the whole fucking world too!  
I disappeared into my closet and shut the door behind me! It would never see me   
coming! The closet door creeped open a little, and I came rushing out with my   
sledgehammer. I swung it high above my head, then brought it crashing down with   
all my strength right into the speaker on top of the radio! "Die, you fucking   
rat bastards!" I bashed the fucking thing over and over and over and over and   
over again, until the nightstand it sat on top of was completely demolished.  
I love being my father's son.  
I really should learn to control myself just a little, though.  
I lose more radios this way.  
  
7:42 A.M.-The Shower  
  
I stepped under the water at this ungodly hour in the morning, which I've always   
considered a form of torture anyway, but this time I was so tired, and   
distracted with my inevitable victory over my clock-radio-note to self: tell   
sonny boy to buy new clock-radio-that I had just turned the nozzles, and hadn't   
checked the water before jumping in.  
"HOLY SHIT!" I jumped out of the shower, practically cracking my head wide open   
while slipping on the tiles to escape.  
The water was ice-fucking-cold! Great! It wasn't bad enough I had to get such a   
rude awakening, then put my alarm clock out of my misery, but now there was no   
hot water!  
So I was standing there naked, freezing while dripping ice-cold water, fiddling   
with the nozzles, trying to figure out why there wasn't any warm water coming   
out, and KABOOM! Lightning struck. Actually, it combusted. Or at least,   
something did.  
The whole fucking house shook!  
Then the flow of water abruptly stopped.  
I froze. I didn't move, then a burst of dirty, brown water shot out of the   
showerhead and splashed me. I was freezing on the outside, but I was steaming on   
the inside. There could only have been one explanation.  
I rushed downstairs seething with every hurried step, and when I came to the   
basement door I flung it open with all the force I could put into it.  
The immense slam of the knob made part of the drywall crumble when it hit.  
I stormed down the stairs and there's my father-exactly where I knew he'd be-in   
a flooded basement with an overhead pipe ruptured and pouring water onto   
combustible materials such as dynamite and fireworks, some of which were kinda   
old.  
Then I waded into the basement floor, my father staring at me, seeing me   
completely naked, dripping wet looking like I had been in a mud fight with the   
stains from the filthy water all over me. He was at a loss for words, so I   
figured I'd take a wild guess.  
"Gee, son, is there...oh...anything you'd like to say? How about 'Hey, Dad, I   
blew up one of the water mains, meaning there's no hot water, so don't try to   
take a shower until I get all of the explosives out of the basement because it's   
flooding.' You could also try something along the lines of, 'I'm an idiot and I   
fucked up big time!' Yeah, that sounds good." He was staring at me quite   
dumbfounded, so I knew something else was wrong. "What? Did I miss something,   
tiger?"  
I had missed something. He was concealing something behind him. He reluctantly   
pulled out something soaked and black, and extended it to me...  
"Oh, Christ, NO!" I screamed, I was wounded, I was in intense fucking pain! It   
was my trench! I must've left it down here yesterday when I came down to grab   
some cherry bombs. I was heart-broken. It hung heavy and soggy in his hand-it   
was practically dead. My beautiful, proud trench coat.  
I trudged through the flood, up to my knees in water, and I snatched it from his   
evil fucking clutches! I was so depressed I could've cried. It looked so sad and   
pathetic. It was a shell of its former self.  
This was a nightmare! It had to be, because there was no way this was how my day   
was starting! I gathered it up in my arms, cradling my poor baby so she wouldn't   
drag through the water, and I started ranting to my father.  
"That's it! I'm not going to school! I'm staying home."  
"Hey, Pop, you only got started there two weeks ago and you've gone twice."  
"Why should I bother going? In a couple months, I'll be not going somewhere else   
instead! I don't go anywhere without my trench!"  
"I'll give you my jacket, and you can wear that."  
I stared at him incredulously. He really didn't get it, did he. His jacket?! Was   
he insane?!  
Then again, this is my father we're talking about, so I'll let that insult he   
just made slide, being fully aware of the mental problems that run in the   
family...but I was not going to cave on this one. Without that trench, I'm   
vulnerable. It's practically a bullet-proof vest. It protects me from the   
bullshit I tread through at those evil fucking places.  
"The only place I'm going is back to bed, because there's no fucking way I'm   
going to that suburban hellhole of a school for snotty, teenaged, malcontent   
troglodytes! No fucking way!" I rushed up the stairs and out of my father's own   
private Thailand.  
Once I got back to the upstairs bathroom, I rinsed my poor, beloved trench in   
the sink in the arctic water because the cold water was apparently still clean,   
then I hung the old girl up on a hanger, figuring she'd be dry for tomorrow. I   
also took the time to grab a washcloth for the off-the-hook intent to grin and   
bear the icy touch of the water to get the muck from the shower off me.  
Then, just as I crawled back into bed, and I collapsed comfortably enough to   
fall right back to sleep, I heard him coming up the steps and down the hall into   
my room.  
"Son, I don't have time for this. You have to go to school." But, of course, he   
had time to lecture me about how I need to be at school when there are old   
explosives soaking in the basement that could easily threaten to blow the house   
off the face of the earth!!-but no, nagging me about going to school's much more   
important than seeing to that little detail.  
This was really about the fact he didn't want to deal with me hanging around   
today. Any other day, he didn't give a shit, but today, he knew I'd just be   
bitter and bitching and he was right. But if he'd let me, I would've been happy   
to sacrifice my hours of getting up his ass about the minor disaster/borderline   
catastrophe brewing in the basement to sleep away the daylight hours. After   
that, I would be free to roam around, terrorize the locals, act as a general   
creature of the night and of bad habit, and he wouldn't have to put up with me   
at all throughout the day, but he persisted. Obviously, he just didn't get any   
of it.  
I spoke half into my pillow with my face mostly buried in it, desperate to just   
konk out. "Dad, I am absolutely, positively, no fucking way in hell going to-"  
Suddenly I was jolted by another loud and jarring boom.  
My father and I just looked towards my door, knowing that it came from the   
basement like the one before. I thought back to when I had felt the first   
explosion and the shower erupted, then I had visions of the whole place blowing   
sky high.  
"I'm going."   
  
  
8:51 A.M.-Snappy's Snack Shack  
  
I pulled up to Snappy's on my Harley, wearing my damp trench. I figured the wind   
would dry it out, and it had damn well better, because there was no fucking way,   
I was going to school without it!  
Of course, there was no place to park, not even a small spot I could have   
squeezed my bike into. Even the space in front of the entrance was taken.   
Everyone ducked into Snappy's to kick back a couple just minutes before classes   
started.  
I figured I'd keep my cool and just park around back.  
I went inside, and the place was packed, but slowly and steadily, it was   
emptying out, because most of these assholes were much more concerned about   
getting to class on time than I was. I had no patience for anyone today, so I   
just kept a low profile.  
I hadn't had any breakfast, so first thing I did was head for my dairy group-  
Twinkies. I got to the box and they were all fucking gone! But, of course, they   
had plenty of Corn Nuts! I fucking hate Corn Nuts! BQ and plain! All I wanted   
was a fucking Twinkie and a coke! What good is the drink without the healthy,   
nutritious meal!  
Well, I certainly didn't want anything other than a Twinkie, so I grabbed a coke   
out of the refrigerated case, and started to head for the check-out counter when   
I saw a letter-jacket frat pack get in line. I had my gun with me, but it still   
wasn't firing. Mystifying! So I just wandered into the back of the store to wait   
for them to leave. They were all that was left of the litter that needed to be   
swept out of the store. I'd just hang around, bullshit, read magazines, and   
enjoy the quiet.  
I flipped through a couple magazines, but nothing really ignited my interest. By   
time I glanced up again, the dickless, pubescent frat pack was being rung up at   
the register, so I strolled further down the aisle with my coke in hand, having   
finished most of it already, since I never wait until I actually pay for my soda   
to start drinking it.  
Then a bunch of hooks in a pegboard brought me further down the aisle wondering   
if they got my brand of condoms back in stock yet. Of course, they hadn't!  
I had last gotten laid an entire state ago, so I was getting pretty high-strung   
and tense, which I'm sure was painfully obvious and magnifying the fact that I   
was having a shitty day without needing to be reminded that it had been a whole   
two weeks without sex. Now they didn't even have my favorite brand of fucking   
condoms, so I couldn't even if I had the chance.  
Hey! Cherry-flavored!  
I glanced back at the counter, and the frat pack was gone. But lo and behold,   
there was Miss Burke, quiet as a mouse moving indecisively up to check out.  
Miss Burke was my English teacher. Her hair was always pinned back, and she wore   
these black-rimmed glasses, and was painfully shy. Even when she spoke in class,   
she was not at all aggressive and most of the class didn't respect her. She was   
probably the Betty Finn of her high school class. She was definitely what Betty   
Finn would be if she grew up to be a high school English teacher. The only thing   
was Miss Burke was really something under those glasses and bobby pins. You   
could see it in her eyes. She had the potential to be a genuine femme fatale,   
but instead she hid it under those long, loose dresses, knit sweaters, and   
lenses too thin for her to have the need to wear them.  
She liked me though. She knew I was much smarter than I let on. Probably one of   
the few teachers who had bothered speaking to me the few times I'd even come to   
school. She definitely had a thing for me. She'd be crazy to bother with me   
otherwise.  
I grabbed a couple boxes off the hook and jutted up to the register, getting in   
line behind her. She glanced over at me, then as she was about to smile, I   
slapped down two boxes of ribbed, magnum-sized, cherry-flavored condoms. She   
looked right at them, her eyes wide with shock and surprise, and in that true   
good-girl fretiquette, she glanced away, looking anywhere but at the big, red   
boxes of condoms. Her eyes met mine for a moment and I smiled a coy little smirk   
at her.  
Why is Snappy's such a great place to pick up women? I don't get why that is,   
but I've noticed it in the past.  
I pulled the cash for the condoms and the soda out of my pocket and by time I   
looked up, she had already bolted for the door. I grabbed my change and the   
stuff I had just bought and rushed outside. There were only two cars in Snappy's   
lot by then, so it was easy to spot Miss Burke getting in hers in a hurry.  
No problem, I thought. I could just have hopped on my bike and followed her,   
maybe I could have even cut her off and gotten her to stop. We could have talked   
a little...  
But there was one problem.  
My eyes started darting all over the place as I heard Miss Burke's engine start.   
The lot was practically empty, only two spaces were even taken, but something   
was wrong.  
"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no!" I couldn't find my Harley! I didn't see it   
anywhere!  
Those assholes! The fucking frat pack that was inside a few minutes ago-they   
stole my fucking bike!  
I was glancing everywhere, frantic, going nuts with rage building up inside me.   
I even walked out to the sidewalk to look at the store from the front angle,   
like my bike would be hiding just behind the only cars in the lot, or maybe   
those fuckers just hid it.  
"FUCK!"  
Just then, Miss Burke backed her car out of her space and pulled out of the   
driveway onto the road. I ran as fast as I could after her, screaming as loud as   
I could, "Miss Burke, wait! I need a ride to school!" She was speeding away too   
fast, she probably hadn't even heard me.  
  
I stood there in the middle of the street, staring at her car as it disappeared   
up the hill and then my eyes turned back to Snappy's damn-near empty parking   
lot. I couldn't figure it out! Those letter-jacket dickheads must have taken my   
Harley!  
Now, I had to get to school right away. They probably parked it in the middle of   
the football field or some weird-ass place like that, thinking it would be a   
huge fucking joke!  
The worst part was I had to walk now. Snappy's, the school, just about   
everything follows through the woods in this hick town. Even the main streets   
are built against the trees. The same woods that were behind Westerberg High   
were up the hill above Snappy's.  
Why was this important, you ask? Because every fucking road curves and twists   
through the woods because of that! So where it took five minutes to ride my   
Harley up to school from here, now that my bike was fucking gone, it was going   
to be a forty-five minute walk!  
I drive pretty fast. I am a motorcycle owner, you know. Well, I was, until then!  
So I started walking, and it was literally all uphill from here. What a fucking   
day I was having so far! My house is on the brink of being obliterated thanks to   
the deadly combination of water and old dynamite-which incidentally sweats   
nitroglycerin. I have thus far managed to blow my chances with Miss Burke and   
now, my bike had been stolen and God only knew where the hell it was!  
At the very least, my trench was dry.  
I spoke too soon, as people often do on bad days. That was when I felt the first   
drops of rain. Since I had been so clouded with the infuriating disappearance of   
my bike, I didn't notice the actual clouds getting awfully dark and thick in the   
sky.  
Lightning crashed into the woods somewhere close by, and I just started walking.  
Why not!  
Murphy and his fucking laws!  
  
  
10:01 A.M.-Westerberg  
  
On occasion, every philosopher is haunted by the comeuppance of their own   
philosophy. They always manage to have their theories turn on them, and here I   
was getting the same treatment from my pet philosophy of chaos.  
I walked up to the school, soaked to the bone, because I knew it wasn't just   
going to be a passing shower. After the first few minutes of my long walk to   
school, the bottom dropped out and it had been heavy downpours all the way here.   
Only now that I was finally arriving at school was it letting up.  
Of fucking course! It couldn't possibly be any other way!  
I wasn't even thinking about class, or anything else. I just came to find my   
Harley. I was gonna head out all across the school grounds, and search for my   
bike.  
I reached into my pocket, yearning, in fact dying for a cigarette, and I knew   
before I even went for them.  
Yep, sure enough, the entire box was soggy and mushy, practically falling apart   
in my hand as I took it out of my pocket. I opened the box and looked inside,   
and a little part of me was in agony. My poor, precious cigs were ruined. I   
crumpled the box and tossed it on the grass in front of the entrance to the   
school.  
Fuck! And I had almost a full pack left too!  
Just as I tossed the pack, I turned my head for that split-second to watch the   
mangled Marlboro box land in the grass, while my body was turning a corner and   
WHAM! The side of my face smacked into the corner of the brick wall I was   
following around to the back of the school.  
I pressed my fingers to the side of my face, and when I took them away from the   
stinging skin of my cheek, they had little blots of blood on them. So it was   
evident I had a little cut that stung like a bitch on the side of my face, and   
from the taste of iodine streaming onto my tongue, I was positive I was bleeding   
inside as well as out.  
My mouth was full of blood, and my mind was too.  
  
  
11:21 A.M.-English Class  
  
I flung the door open, and slammed it shut. I walked to the back of the class to   
take my seat. I was soaked to the core, and I was dripping rain water from my   
hair to the tail of my trench. I had a fair-sized scratch on the side of my   
face, and I'm sure it matched my expression-an expression of confidence that the   
rest of the day would be as fulfilling as it had been so far, maybe more so.  
After I settled in my seat, it came to my attention that the class had paused to   
gawk at me, probably not so much because Miss Burke had frozen when I walked in   
and stopped talking mid-lesson as because of my grandiose entrance.  
Miss Burke seemed thrown, like she didn't know what to make of the scene, and   
she didn't know how to assert herself well enough to chastise me for my rude   
entrance, so in the interest of getting all eyes off me and the dazed spotlight   
back on Miss Burke, I opened my mouth and extended the least offensive, most   
apologetic words I could offer.  
"Dreadful etiquette, I apologize."  
I say that a lot, don't I. The truth of the matter is that's as polite as I ever   
get, sincere or not. That cheap, Hallmark-stamped one-liner is the most anyone   
gets from me, and even then it takes a certain something to squeeze that kind of   
illusionary respect out of me. Typically, as was the case this time, it's a   
woman.  
A woman, and a rush of blood-sexual or violent. Makes no difference to me.  
Well, the woman finally came back to her senses. Miss Burke shook off the   
interruption and resumed her quiet lecture, asking a few questions which no one   
cared to answer.  
No one, that is, except Betty Finn, whom I gathered could probably pass for no   
one by definition around here. Her hand was always the only one raised to answer   
Miss Burke's questions. She even hesitated, as though she knew answering would   
ostracize her more from her so-called peers, but she always eventually raised   
it, most likely realizing further isolation was impossible given her current   
social status.  
The only reason anyone knew who Betty Finn was at all was because in every   
class, she was the smart one who always had her hand raised to answer every   
question. That was why I knew who she was.  
The interesting thing about Betty Finn was how much she and Miss Burke seemed   
alike. They had the same way about them, painfully shy, wore the same kind of   
clothes, and were too smart for their society and their own lives. The few times   
I had been in class, I spent the time looking at the two of them with a Then/Now   
theme in mind.  
But like I said before, Miss Burke was a centerfold under those glasses and   
mothball clothes. It was just a matter of getting her out of them-  
The bell rang. Class was over.  
If I had known there was only four minutes left until lunchtime, I wouldn't have   
bothered making a fucking spectacle of myself by coming into class. All that   
accomplished was to draw unnecessary attention to myself. I like to stay as far   
beneath the radar as possible. Low profile, less bullshit, high menace, more   
opportunity.  
Fuck lunch-I still had yet to find my bike.  
I let everyone shove their way out the door, and only when the class was empty   
did I get up to leave. I was half-way to the door.  
"Jason, could I speak to you for a minute?"  
I stopped in my tracks, and said, "I love it when you call me, Jason." I could   
tell by her recoiled posture that she didn't know if I was being sarcastic or   
flirtatious. I had meant it to be sarcastic.  
"You missed the entire class, and you've only come to my class twice."  
"Well, if you hadn't sped off from Snappy's, I wouldn't have been left stranded   
in the parking lot, I could've asked you for a ride to school since I found out   
my bike was stolen, and I would've gotten here on time!"  
Pack the bags. We're going on a guilt trip!  
She was quiet for a moment, not sure what to make of that excuse, but mostly it   
wasn't in her nature to be confrontational, so she was trying extra hard to act   
like my teacher.  
"You've never even turned in one of the assignments."  
I could feel a straighten-up and fly-right speech coming on.  
"If you applied yourself at all, you could do anything you want."  
"I already do anything I want."  
She had nothing to say again.  
I could see how she was trying to somehow shake the cynicism, crack the ice, and   
expose some vulnerable genius trapped on the rebel side of adolescence. If she   
wanted to pretend to know anything about me, she'd know the cynicism is deeper   
than the surface, there is no ice, and the only thing about me that was feeling   
trapped right now was my libido.  
Nevertheless, she kept trying.  
"I know you aren't stupid. I know that we wear the chains we forge in life, and   
I know what you're going through, but I also know you can't let it drag you down   
like this."  
She was making a genuine, sickeningly serious attempt to reach out to me, but   
far be it for me to miss an opportunity to open my big mouth given half the   
chance.  
"And you know what kind of condoms I use too, don't you."  
A flirtatious menace or a menacing flirtation-either way, I couldn't resist.  
She recoiled even further, obviously offended and appalled. She spoke as softly   
and quietly as I had ever heard her. "Get out."  
Not exactly the impression I wanted to make, but definitely the words I wanted   
to hear.  
Women!  
Fucking women, man! They always trip me up. I wind up getting bent out of shape   
over them and for what? It's not like I really love any of them. I like them. I   
lust after them. That doesn't seem to make a difference though. They get stuck   
in my mind, and they become an obsession.  
At that moment, when I left the classroom, it was this whole thing with Miss   
Burke that was driving me up a wall.  
I had to maintain focus and keep my priorities as straight as possible. Bike   
first, then I'd deal with the Miss Burke thing.  
I'll get back to her later.  
FUCK! If I wasn't so preoccupied with finding my bike and if it hadn't been   
fucking stolen, I could've nailed her right there on her fucking desk! We were   
even alone with the room totally to ourselves, for God's sake!  
Why does the shit always hit the fan at the worst possible time!  
  
  
12:25 P.M.-At The Lockers  
  
Once again, my quest for the holy Harley yielded two things-jack and shit.  
I went into my locker after having wasted my lunch hour wandering the school   
grounds in the drizzle. I was hoping I had left my walkman in my locker, but I   
knew I hadn't. I wanted to check anyway. I opened the door to check inside and-  
"Shit!"  
Jesus! You leave the house in a hurry to avoid falling victim to explosive   
nitroglycerin residue and your whole day goes to hell! Maybe I should've stayed   
home. I think leaving the house created more problems than it solved. I was   
positive by this point that I should have stayed home. At least, there would be   
some resolution in getting blown to fucking pieces!  
This was the essence of chaos and it had been exploding in my fucking face all   
day. My own personal subscription to Chaos Daily returned to sender!  
I slammed my locker shut. There wasn't a damn thing in it that would have done   
me any good. No walkman, no cigs, not even any fireworks.  
I kicked my locker. I looked at it. That wasn't enough.  
I kicked it again. I wanted to bash the fucking door in and wreck the thing.  
I attacked it. I kicked it, hit it, smacked it, I took my anger out on it, and   
beat the shit out of it.  
The door was to blame! I convinced myself I would be having the best fucking day   
of my life if it hadn't been for that goddamn door! The door requested that song   
on the radio this morning. The door broke our water pipe. It stole my bike. IT   
ATE MY FUCKING TWINKIE!  
I don't know if you've ever seen anyone abusing their locker before, but it's   
actually quite therapeutic. There were a few people walking the hall at the   
time, and with any luck, they were traumatized and scarred for life by   
witnessing my little spectacle.  
I felt slightly better.  
Then, I turned away from my mangled locker, only to see a letter-jacket heading   
down the hall in my direction. This football player was looking right at me with   
a smug smile on his face. A scenario I was far too familiar with, and I was not   
in the mood for it. This was the worst possible time, but so be it!  
"Having a bad day?"  
I steadied my voice and spoke as confidently and defiantly as my caustic tone   
would allow without giving him any satisfaction. "I'm having the greatest   
fucking day of my life."  
He walked right up to me, which just made me more disgusted that I had to put up   
with this shit then and there, but I saw a silver lining. At the very least,   
this could turn out to be the best, most rewarding part of this whole lousy day   
when I put this steroid-happy beer-guzzler in his place.  
He looked me right in the eye and said, "You must be new here."  
I was getting ready to have the highlight of my day hit. I could feel it coming   
on.  
"Then, you must be the resident asshole."  
He suddenly looked confused as if he didn't know that was meant to be an insult.   
I was beginning to think this would be easier than I had thought if he was this   
stupid, but then this silly smile came over his face and he started to chuckle   
like a blonde mimbo, and said-  
"Oh, I get it." And he seemed to be having a really good laugh about it.  
Get what?! It was an insult, you dickhead! I stood there incredulous. I couldn't   
figure out what this ass thought was so funny. Then he started talking to me-  
TALKING TO ME!  
"Hey, if you're having trouble with your locker, sometimes the thing to do is   
whack it right by the lock, because these things are old, and they get stuck   
real easy."  
My mouth dropped. He was actually trying to be nice. I was looking forward to   
kicking him in the balls and knocking him unconscious for starters-it was going   
to be the most fun I'd have on the worst day-and he was trying to be nice!  
I was speechless. I was panicked and sickened. I had no idea what the hell to   
do. I was so thrown by the fact he was trying to be nice-Shit! I wanted to get   
the fuck out of there. This was too weird for me to deal with today!  
I was wondering if when I got out of bed that morning, I had entered the fucking   
Twilight Zone or something! I couldn't handle a day this strange.  
I had been quiet for a minute, so he just kept going!  
"Or did you forget your locker combination? That sucks, man. If you forgot your   
combo, you can always go to the office and they have it on file. I know because   
once I shut my locker door before I got my chemistry book out of it and..."  
He wouldn't shut up! He just didn't stop! I couldn't take this much longer.  
Besides, I had to go look for my-suddenly, I had an idea, and a devilish, yet   
friendly feeling swept over me.  
I started talking right in the middle of one of his sentences.  
"So, you're on the football team?"  
"Yeah, I'm a halfback." He had this stupid, naïve smile and honest face. It was   
creepy. Like finding out Madonna is really a virgin, or seeing Richard Nixon   
holding a daisy at a Vietnam protest rally. There was just something terrifically   
unwholesome about this!  
"Let me ask you something...uhh..." I hesitated purposely paving an opening for   
him to introduce himself and throw his name out onto the table.  
"Brick."  
Why was I not surprised?  
"Who's your best friend? Skipper?" He just stood there smiling stupidly. He   
didn't get it again. "Do you keep your cat on a hot tin roof?"  
Blank expression. He still didn't get it! Finally, he voiced his confusion.   
"Huh?"  
"Nevermind." In the interest of moving past the fact that he was so fucking   
dense, I grinned and beared the ignorance I had blindly walked into.   
"Say, do you know anyone with a Harley? Maybe on the football team?"  
"Harley? No. I don't know anyone who has a Harley. Why? Are you looking to buy   
one, because I heard that motorcycles-"  
"Yeah, uh-huh. Look, I'd love to wanna stay, but I've gotta run. Nice talking to   
you. Wonderful. Perfecto. We'll have to do it again sometime when I'm not here.   
Keep in touch."  
Shit! Even the football team didn't know where my bike was!  
I hurried down the hall determined to figure out what the fuck had happened to   
it. Anyone could have taken it, but it had to be within reason. I mean, I didn't   
think it was likely the Chess Club had it for God's sake! So where the fuck was   
it!  
My mind flooded with possibilities and drained of logical thought at the same   
time. I had no fucking clue where my bike was, and if I hadn't been so   
determined to exhaust myself finding it, I would have headed right back home and   
climbed back into bed before the rest of the day could get me. It was me against   
Chance and I didn't like my odds.  
Fuck! Fuck!...Think, J.D. Think, think, think.  
FUCK!  
Fuck it! I was going home! I'd buy a new fucking bike if I had to, but I was   
gonna head home, and sleep the rest of this shit day away, and I didn't give a   
fuck if the sun was still up. I wanted this whole day over with and done!  
Who the fuck was I kidding.  
I'm a fucking glutton for punishment.  
I'm not going to look for my bike?!  
OF COURSE, I'M GOING TO LOOK FOR MY FUCKING BIKE!  
On a day this beautiful, how could I do any less, or let it be any other way!  
I started walking into the woods behind Westerberg. Maybe I'd get an idea, just   
walking with some peace and quiet. Hell, maybe I'd run into my bike in that   
little stretch of forest.  
No, I wouldn't.  
But at least it sounded like I was still trying.  
Alright, me versus Chaos; round 6!  
Ah, fuck me.  
  
  
2:12 P.M.-The Woods  
  
At this point, I was sure of two things:  
One, I was never going to find my bike. Two, if I ever did find my bike, some   
sick twist of fate would tighten the screws on this day, and something else   
would go wrong as a result of me finding the bike! I'd skid on the pavement and   
slam into a tree or something. I just had that feeling that you know something   
lies in wait, like a speed bump you know is around the bend, but you can never   
see coming!  
I had walked back and forth across trails, dirt paths, and roadsides for almost   
two hours. I had searched and backtracked all through the wooded area behind the   
school, and must have wandered at least a mile in every direction without a sign   
of anything-the bike, a break in the storm clouds, any type of windfall-no hope   
of any kind surfaced.  
Oddly enough though, I didn't feel so bad walking through the woods. There was   
something that agreed with me about walking through the woods with a thick mist   
in the air, wearing a trench, feeling godly in this quiet landscape. The scenery   
was calming and inspiring, but best of all, it was creepy, draped in a thin veil   
of fog, like London when Jack the Ripper would walk the streets at night. Not   
that that's a serene image, but I thrived on the feeling. I got off on it.  
I was really starting to feel better. I was the only person in the world, and I   
was the only evil left. It was so deserted, leaving me to my own devices and   
designs with unlimited freedom. The power I felt was the best I had felt all   
day. I felt like I was finally getting back to my good old deviant self.  
This place was ethereal. It was as primitive as it gets, as base, and as   
perfectly natural. I reigned supreme here. Here, I was a god!  
I was the Dark Prince of Sherwood Forest.  
At that moment, the only thing I felt I was lacking was a cigarette.  
I needed the fucking nicotine. Nothing could make me feel more powerful, more in   
control, or more dangerous than walking this place while puffing blue smoke like   
a visigothic devil.  
Suddenly, I swore I picked up the faint stinging scent of rich smoke thick with   
tar.  
I glanced all around me, and though I knew I wasn't far from the school, I   
didn't know where I was, or if anyone else was there with me. Then, I spotted a   
string of blue-gray smoke spiraling and curving through the air from behind one   
of the trees ahead of me.  
There's always something truly good that happens in the most unimaginably   
miserable days of your life, and this looked like a silver lining to me,   
literally!  
I rushed up to that tree, not giving a flying fuck who it was, because I was   
desperate for one. Before I even turned the corner to see who was there, I   
shouted ahead.  
"I don't know how much I have in my bank account, but it's all yours if I can   
just bum one of those babies off you."  
I turned the corner to face the person, and when I glanced up, there was Miss   
Burke, taken by surprise, and nervously caught off guard, uneasy backing against   
the tree, exhaling a heavy cloud of intoxicating cigarette incense.  
I was thrown for a loop just like she was, but when I stood back and took a good   
look at her, I fell back into the old routine, the cool, the charm, the ease and   
confidence. The manner that made me who I was, a suaveness and mystery that I   
had lost for most of the day-until then.  
She wasn't wearing her glasses. She had them tucked away in the pocket of her   
knit sweater. I guessed the moisture in the air was making it impossible to see   
out of them, so she had to take them off out here. Her face was completely bare,   
au natural, and beautiful. She was even more attractive than I had thought.  
She shook her head, seemingly remembering that I had come over asking for a   
smoke, and fidgeted with her bag, clumsily produced the pack from inside her   
purse, and extended it to me. I took it from her, opened it, and pulled a cig,   
placing it between my lips, never taking my eyes off her. I could see that was   
making her nervous. My very presence here was unnerving to her, but before I got   
there, she was just as carefree as I was walking alone a minute ago, the only   
difference being I hadn't lost that high. I was getting braver and more   
comfortable by the second, while she seemed to be struggling with me being three   
feet away.  
I already had a hard-on.  
I don't know if you've ever been to England, but they have this lovely   
expression over there-  
"Can I get a butt fuck?"  
"What?" She was appalled, and instantly disgusted, and I loved her innocence.  
Apparently, she had never been to England.  
"The butt of your cigarette. I need a light."  
I don't know how I could say that so innocently and sound so demonic and   
disturbed, but somehow, I managed.  
She handed me what was left of her cigarette, and I lit mine off the dying   
embers of hers. I tossed the cigarette butt, and inhaled a deep, refreshing   
lungful of smoky tar and a blast of nicotine that jolted through my system with   
my first breath of the addictive goddess.  
My eyes were still fixated on her, and I loved how self-conscious that made her.   
I took the cig in my hand and stepped towards her. She didn't seem the slightest   
bit scared, just cautious and doubtful, but she didn't try to stop me and she   
didn't say a word when I took another step that put me mere inches from her.  
I put my free hand to her face-the other one busy clutching my cigarette-and ran   
it back through her hair, and unfastened the clip she had holding most of it   
back. Her silky brunette hair fell loosely over her shoulders and around her   
face.  
I was really restraining myself, but I was getting such a rush out of teasing   
her and making her guess what I'd do next that I was having too much fun to just   
rip her clothes off and start boning her just like that.  
I brushed my lips against hers and traveled down the nape of her neck. Finally,   
I couldn't hold out on physical contact, so I came up and kissed her as deeply   
as possible. I'm sure she didn't notice right away, but I used my free hand to   
work my way down her dress, undoing all the buttons. I know she realized what I   
was doing when I reached the ones below her navel, because she pulled back from   
my kiss and stared at me.  
I pushed the shoulders of her dress back and it fell to the ground, and all that   
stood between me and her bare skin was an immaculate white slip. Part of me   
stirred even harder when I saw the pink of her nipples and the darkness of her   
pubic hair through the sheerness of the material. I could feel her slim curves   
just by being so close. My desire to get inside her was intense, but I had to   
pace myself. I hate fast sex. It defeats the purpose of enjoying it and making   
it interesting.  
My hands swam up under the silk, moving up her thighs to her hips, past her   
stomach, over her breasts, and the slip was being lifted up by my arms from   
underneath. I lifted it up over her head, and then, she was there between me and   
the tree naked.  
I reached into the pocket of my trench and pulled out the box of condoms I had   
bought, which was soggy, but the wrappers were in tact, of course. I detached   
one from the long string of them, and held it up so she could see it, and I   
smiled at her, still grazing her lips with mine.  
"Cherry," I said in my most suggestive, raspy voice.  
"Mmm hmm." She answered back, very dazed, swept up in the heat of the moment and   
quite accommodating. I knew she understood when she took the condom from out of   
my hand, and got down on her knees.  
I leaned back against the tree, relaxed, and took another drag off my cigarette,   
as she unzipped my jeans and tore open the package to get the condom out. These   
were flavored for a reason.  
I used the time she spent putting it on me to take off my trench and sling it   
over the nearest tree branch so it wouldn't get filthy on the ground.  
I spent the next half hour or so getting the blow job of a lifetime from my   
English teacher. Miss Burke was more depraved than I had suspected, because she   
was very good at this.  
Miss Burke. You know, it's funny. I didn't even know her first name. I didn't   
want to know. It was information I could do without.  
When that tantalizing little detail was done, I wasn't. Now, it was time to put   
another one to use. By then, all my clothes were scattered on the lower tree   
limbs along with hers to keep them out of the mud the rain had formed earlier in   
the day.  
First, I was standing up with her legs wrapped around my hips, and I finally   
tasted the thrill and the climactic conquest of penetrating her after the hunt   
and capture of this one perfect fuck.  
I heard her moan and softly cry out a few times, both from the throes of sex and   
from the fact that her back was being scratched up by the bark of the tree every   
time I thrust into her rougher and slammed her into it harder.  
Finally, when I couldn't keep delaying the moment, I picked her up, and laid her   
down on the wet grass, finishing our long sexual exploits on the muddy ground,   
too deep in the carnal sensation of orgasm to care if we were fucking on nails.  
When it was over, we laid there for a while. She didn't say a word to me, but   
she seemed more than content with what we had done, and plenty pleased with me,   
because she laid there smiling at me the whole time. I made a joke, gesturing to   
the three used condoms discarded on the side. "We just killed our children."   
Other than that, the most I said was to ask for another cigarette afterwards,   
and then again for another one when I started getting dressed, so I'd have one   
on the way home.  
Now I could at least go through the rest of the day without being distracted by   
being horny.  
That was as satisfied as you'd ever see me that day.  
For a while, I forgot I even fucking owned a bike!  
Damn, I needed that.  
  
  
4:23 P.M.-Walking Home  
  
I was walking back home through the winding woods. Like I said, you could follow   
them around the back of half the town. The thought that the day was finally   
getting better occurred to me, but I knew it was too good to last. I wanted to   
prolong the feeling that things were back to normal for me as long as possible,   
so I stuck to the path inside the woods, every now and then looking down on the   
winding roads at the bottom of the hills.  
I was pretty proud of myself. I was still savoring that ungodly high from   
nailing Miss Burke, and I was feeding off the atmosphere of the forest still. I   
was riding the crest of a blissful wave I knew had to break sooner or later.  
As I walked along, I watched a few cars drive by, and a few buildings pass, but   
then I saw the neon sign for Snappy's glowing in the mist, and I figured maybe I   
could pick up a snack, since I really hadn't eaten anything all day.  
I started heading downhill towards it, thinking by now they should have their   
turbodogs ready, or maybe they even restocked their Twinkies. Couldn't hurt to   
hope.  
I was halfway down to the parking lot, approaching the store from the back when   
I glanced up and caught the divine image of a Harley parked behind the building.  
It was my bike!  
I was dumbfounded. I stood there thinking to myself for a second, wondering how   
the hell...  
Then, it hit me.  
"Gaaa!" I smacked myself in the forehead. "J.D., you're such a fucking moron!"  
I was extremely mad at myself for forgetting I had parked it there when I came   
in this morning because there were no spots in front, but I was just thrilled to   
pieces to see the old girl again!  
I skidded down the steep slope and jumped on my bike. I was so glad to see my   
baby I could've started humping her if I hadn't already gotten laid!  
I started her up and blazed off down the road.  
I gotta tell you, at that moment, I felt like I couldn't get any higher.  
I was so thirsty for that sweet, familiar power trip, I convinced myself nothing   
could take the past few hours of triumph from me. I was cruising along at a   
conservative hundred and ten miles an hour in a twenty-five mile per hour zone,   
and I kept picking up speed.  
Nothing could take me down! I wanted to sneer at God's creation! I wanted to   
look down on all his creatures with contempt, and spit on his-  
Uh-oh.  
The bike was slowing down and the engine was choking. Something was wrong. My   
baby was in pain! Finally, after losing significant speed traveling uphill with   
no power to keep her going, she rolled on fumes, grinding to a jerky halt.  
I was mind-boggled. I had forgotten to get gas this morning, so after a few   
minutes of fast-paced joyriding, it only came to my attention now that the   
fucking tank was empty!  
Shit!  
I couldn't believe my luck.  
I fucking knew I couldn't go more than two hours without hitting static!  
I just knew this would happen. I predicted it while I was walking through the   
woods behind Westerberg before I ran into Miss Burke! This meant I'd have to   
walk my bike all the way home, which I figured would only take a fucking hour or   
two.  
The second I tried to convince myself it wasn't so bad, a sonic crack coasted   
along the clouds and rain started falling, blinding and heavy.  
Perfect. Fucking perfecto!  
Why the fuck not!  
I'd been pushed by Chaos all day! Chaos and Fate. If there's a hell, they lived   
there, and they were watching me and laughing their asses off from their window!  
Why not just go with the flow and throw myself over the fucking edge instead of   
fighting the current and getting the shit kicked out of me for it!  
Sure! I'd walk my bike an hour to my house in a fucking lightning storm! Hell,   
I'd stand under a fucking tree and shield myself with a nice hefty-sized piece   
of sheet metal!  
What a beautiful day for a bullet in the head!  
Shit, make it two!  
Over the river, and through the woods, into the fucking inferno we go!  
Slow ahead. Dead fucking slow ahead.  
  
  
5:25 P.M.-Donny's Discount Gas  
  
Finally, fucking finally! I spotted the glowing sign in the distance for the gas   
station I knew was on this road somewhere. Turned out somewhere was forty-five   
minutes walk down the road!  
The sun hadn't even set yet, but under the overcast sky, it looked closer to   
midnight. It hadn't let up in the least, but there was some cover over the   
station.  
The place was practically abandoned with one guy sitting outside the gas   
station's mini-mart who looked too stoned or senile to notice I had even walked   
up to the pumps.  
I didn't care. I wasn't going to be there long. I was going to get my gas, hop   
on my bike and be on my way.  
I pulled out my wallet to find out how much gas I could afford, which depended   
on how much change I had from the condoms and Coke I bought at Snappy's that   
morning.  
I opened it up, and I had exactly fifty cents in total to my name.  
This was inconceivable! It was fucking impossible that this day had actually   
started to turn into one of my better days for a matter of a couple hours, and   
then regress into the nightmare I thought I had escaped!  
Where the fuck was I supposed to go on fifty cents worth of gas?!  
There wasn't anything around here for miles yet!  
I could've gone the other way and taken the more direct route into town, but my   
house was on the other side of it, so it wouldn't have done me any good anyway.  
Item number six that I had neglected to remember in my hurry out of the house:   
gas money.  
I approached the brain-dead hick sitting in front of the mart entrance, acting   
pushy, but trying to seem like I would appreciate some help here.  
"Look, I don't have the cash on me, but could you just bill it to Big Bud Dean   
Construction?"  
"Sorry, I can't do that. If you got a credit card-"  
"I don't have a fucking credit card. Listen, Little Joe, Billy Bob, or whatever   
the fuck your name is, this is really simple. You can just bill it. Big Bud Dean   
Construction. It's my father's company."  
"No, I can't just bill it. I'd need to confirm. Do you know someone I can call   
to do that? 'Cause otherwise I can't help you."  
He was really trying my patience, what was left of it, anyway.  
"I've never had to call my own house!"  
Shit! If I hadn't left the house this morning in such a hurry, this day would've   
gone a lot smoother. I was starving, and trying to decide between wasting it on   
a snack from the mart inside, or what appeared to be a good idea at the time.  
I noticed a payphone on the opposite side of the pumps when I pulled into the   
gas station.  
I walked over to the payphone, and I dialed information. Then I got the typical   
operator recording that kicks in when you don't put in enough money, which I   
didn't understand, because I had put in twenty-five cents.  
What?! It was fifty fucking cents just to call 4-1-1!  
They were out of their fucking minds! It cost more to call to get a number than   
it did to actually call the fucking number! But I didn't know the fucking number   
for any towing companies out here and this shithole didn't have a garage, so I   
put in the other quarter.  
At the very least information would put me through to one of the numbers. That's   
what I always did at home when I needed a number. They connected me with no   
problem.  
I got the information operator.  
"Yeah, just give me any tow truck in town."  
She started rattling off names of places along with the numbers, and I had to   
interject, because I didn't think she understood what I was asking.  
"No, just put me through to any of those numbers...Yeah, connect me directly to   
them...Well, you can do that, can't you?...Twenty-five cents?! I just spent   
every quarter I had on this call to get connected to the fucking number!" At   
that point, she started lecturing me about using abusive language and some such   
bullshit, so I just shouted into the phone, "Fuck you very much too!" And on   
that happy note, I slammed the receiver down, and started digging into my   
pockets, on the slight possibility I had loose change in my trench or my jeans.   
I was even looking around on the ground by the phone and in the dirt by the   
roadside.  
I pulled out the cigarette Miss Burke gave me for use on my way home, and of   
course, it was soaked through, ruined, and I dropped it at the curb.  
Next, I pulled out the box of condoms, and figured I'd get rid of the mushy box,   
so I removed the strip of condoms from the inside, but while I was doing that,   
some small print on the opened flap caught my eye. I took a closer look at it.  
Expires 11/88.  
Perfect. Great! Fucking beautiful!  
Fuck! I couldn't believe this shit. The fucking things expired six months ago!  
Ick Luge, man!  
Everything I loved about this day was turning just as ugly as the rest of it!   
First the bike, and now this! I chucked the entire pack of condoms into the   
trees. A lot of good those did me!  
And to top it all off, I didn't find any change for the phone in any of my half   
dozen pockets.  
Who the fuck would I call anyway?  
I looked around in a frustrated rage, and I saw a dumpster on the side of the   
mart, straight ahead of where I was standing by the phone. I marched over to it,   
grabbed the first thing that jutted out off the top, which happened to be a   
shovel, and marched right back over to the payphone.  
I brought her up above my head, then brought her crashing down into the phone.  
Lift. Swing. Smash. Repeat.  
Lift. Swing. Smash. Repeat...  
The receiver was ripped out of the phone by one of the blows, the top of the   
covering for the phone was being torn through and caved in, and the phone itself   
was experiencing a major shitfit on my part, and I'm sure the old man was far   
away from me, watching in confusion, too freaked out by this violent display to   
try to interfere with my choice of therapy for the day.  
Lift. Swing. Smash. Repeat...  
After the tenth or twelfth time running that routine, I started screaming   
obscenities at the mangled remains of the payphone while carrying through.  
"Fuck! Cunt! Fucking Cunt!"  
Lift. Swing. Smash. Repeat...  
"Stay focused! Your mind controlled! YOU'RE DEAD!"  
I was hyperventilating from my exertions with the shovel, and the damage I had   
done to the payphone would have to be enough at this point. I dropped the   
shovel, and stared at the fucking thing, and wouldn't you know, not a single   
coin came out of the box with all the fucking hits it took! If I had just gotten   
the casing to crack wide open, I could've filled my fucking gas tank!  
I just turned around, knew that that was as good as things were going to get   
right now, so the sooner I got home the better.  
On the lighter side, the rain was letting up a bit, so I was determined to just   
walk my bike the rest of the way. It wasn't close, but it wasn't too much   
farther either.  
I was beyond caring at this point.  
When I turned around, I noticed the old man gawking at me from a safe distance.  
I called out to him, gesturing to the disfigured payphone, "It wasn't working."  
I took to the side of my bike, and I rode off...  
So to speak.  
I should've just used the fifty cents for gas, for God's sake!  
  
  
6:14 P.M.-Around The Corner  
  
I was walking alongside my bike in the street, and a car pulled up next to me.  
The driver rolled down the window, and I was surprised to see it was Miss Burke.  
"Jason, do you need a lift?"  
"I'm a block away from my fucking house!" I was incredulous! This would be my   
luck today! "Dreadful etiquette, I apologize. It's been a BAD day."  
"It's okay." She seemed so much more comfortable and at ease. She wasn't wearing   
her glasses and she was dressed a little sexier. "Is there a problem with your   
bike?"  
"Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact, but it doesn't matter now."  
"You're sure you're okay?"  
"Yeah." Then, I remembered the box of condoms. "I'm glad to catch you going by,   
because I gotta tell you. That box of condoms expired last year, and I didn't   
realize that until after, and I'm clean, you don't have to worry about that. I   
mean, I'm pretty sure nothing broke, but-"  
"Jason, it's okay. I'm on the pill."  
To hear her say that was such a relief!  
It was really tough trying to explain this to her, and get my point across,   
because I was always responsible, and I was living a pregnancy scare in my mind   
the whole way home from that gas station to that corner. I had had visions of   
the story on the news starring me as the teenaged father of the high school   
English teacher's baby.  
Words couldn't describe the hell I had been through that day. Traumas,   
tragedies, shocks, disappointments, and pregnancy scares. It boggles the mind!  
Thank God I'm sane, because I think a more unstable person would've lost it!  
"Are you coming to class tomorrow?"  
"If I don't have anything better to do, I might."  
She gave me a look as though she disapproved of the answer, but she didn't   
expect any less from me. She smiled, and waved very flirty and casual to me.   
"Good night, Jason."  
"Good night, Miss Burke."  
I brought my bike around the corner as she sped off in the opposite direction,   
and I walked right up to my house, went to open the door, and...  
Surprise. Surprise. The door was locked.  
Item number seven that I left behind in my haste in leaving the house this   
morning: my keys.  
Knock. Knock. Anybody home?  
Of course not!  
The whole fucking house was dark!  
Tiger must've gone to the store to buy more repair materials for the basement,   
or maybe even groceries. It was definitely too much to ask that he was out   
buying Twinkies!  
Ah, a perfect end to a perfect day.  
Locked out, sitting on the front doorsteps with my bike parked on the lawn.  
The garage wasn't even open, which was even more reassuring, because sonny boy   
only locks the garage when he knows he's going to be gone for a while.  
God only knows how long it had been since he left. Shit, I could've missed him   
leaving while I was talking to Miss Burke around the corner!  
Yes, I'm positive that was what happened, because it would have been way too   
convenient for him to be on his way home as I sat down in front of the locked   
door to my house, looking for open windows to climb into, and knowing the ladder   
was still inside the basement, so he could work on the pipes. So that sunk those   
ideas.  
With any luck, I'd climb the side of the house, slip, fall, and break my neck,   
cracking my head open on the concrete.  
Sure I could do that, but rather than tempt fate, I stayed right where I was,   
wet and freezing.  
For an hour!  
  
  
7:19 P.M.-Tiger Arrives Home  
  
The car pulled into the driveway, and I sprung up from the steps, and escorted   
my bike into the garage alongside the car. I didn't say a word to sonny boy. I   
just jetted into the house through the door in the garage, right into the   
kitchen.  
I pulled a bottle of Coke, and poured myself a gigantic glass, then I grabbed a   
cold slice of pizza, not bothering to take the time to reheat it, and my entire   
dinner was gone by time Tiger had all his supplies brought in from the car.  
I disappeared upstairs for a few minutes and came back down, putting my pistol   
down on the table and that was the first time since I walked in that I looked at   
or spoke to sonny boy.  
"I need you to fix whatever the fuck is wrong with this tonight, because I'm not   
fucking going into school tomorrow without it!"  
Only then did I hear that he had turned on the small radio in the kitchen, but   
it was tuned to one of those AM stations, and it grated on my insides,   
especially when I heard the song-  
Everything is beautiful in its own way...  
I grabbed my good old girl back off the countertop, and started pummeling the   
little radio with the butt of the gun until finally the music stopped.  
He looked at me like I knew there was an off switch, but I didn't really give a   
shit anymore.  
"How was your day at school?"  
I was starting to calm down, and all I could do was give an exhausted laugh.  
"Boy, is that ever a loaded question!"  
"Bad day?"  
"Catastrophic's more like it. Disastrous. Tragic. Homicidal. Suicidal. Hectic,   
to put it mildly. Yes, I had a very bad day. Definitely."  
"What happened?"  
I was finally relaxing. The tension was easing up, and I was even starting to   
feel tired. I was starting to comprehend that the day was actually, finally,   
completely over!  
I survived! It was over!  
I didn't even want to ask about the fucking basement.  
"Well, I'm failing physics."  
"Why is that?"  
"I don't know. I didn't even know I was taking physics." Now that I think about   
it, that probably had something to do with the fact I was failing the subject.   
"On the plus side, I think I'm getting an A in English."  
"That's good."  
Good? It was great! It was the sweetest fucking highlight of the day!  
"I forgot my bike at Snappy's and spent most of the day walking in the rain. I   
didn't have any money, any food, or my keys."  
He was practically oblivious to everything I said. He was putting things away,   
and sorting through his loot from the hardware shop.  
"My bike ran out of gas, and I started banging my teacher."  
Nothing. Not a word. Not that he'd have said anything even if he had heard me.  
"That's it for me. I'm done. Stick a fork in me. I'm going to bed."  
That he heard.  
"It's only 7:30!"  
"I'm aware of the time."  
On that note, I trudged up the stairs, stripping off one layer of wet clothes   
after another, and I passed out on the bed naked, finishing up the day pretty   
much the way it had started.  
It was a funny thought that if I had stayed home and gone back to sleep, I would   
just have been waking up then, and ready to head out and spend another night   
flirting with Chaos.  
I was through with Chaos for the day.  
This fucked-up day was over for me, and I fell asleep the second my head hit the   
pillow.  
You know, I'm a stubborn, thick-headed fuck.  
The one thing I took from that day wasn't even a lesson, but it's oh, so   
typically me:  
Chaos killed the dinosaurs, but it couldn't take me out.  
Some of you will probably think this sordid experience should have taught me   
more than that, including respect for Chaos and all that, and you're probably   
right but-  
My darlings, I haven't learned a thing!  
  
  
Copyright: Mary C. Paul, August 2001.  
  



End file.
